


Glorious Wolves

by round_robin



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Come Swallowing, Glory Hole, Group Sex, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: There was a knot hole, at the back of the stable that Jaskier hadn't noticed before. A large knot hole... about waist height.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 29
Kudos: 567





	Glorious Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> I legitly saw a thing from twitter where the NYC health department is recommending people use glory holes to stay safe from Covid 19 during sex. 2020's getting really weird, man...
> 
> Anyways, I only found one Witcher glory hole fic, which is woefully lacking for me. Please enjoy the smut I threw together because a 2020 meme made me laugh too hard. (Cock warming is only if you squint.)
> 
> round--robin on tumblr for more nonsense.

Kaer Morhen was a dream. Poetically beautiful crumbling edifice, well appointed library, larder full to bursting with the food and the best cook Jaskier had ever met outside of court, and three of the sexiest Witchers Jaskier could ever dream to know.

Geralt was just the start of it. As hulking, brooding and devastatingly handsome as he was, Jaskier expected the others to be more of the same—sometimes withdrawn, guarded with their words, and very much on the taciturn side of things. It took him long enough to pull Geralt out of his shell and teach him the numerous perks of fucking one's personal bard, Jaskier didn't really want to spend the energy opening up the others as well. He looked forward to fun and fond friendship, but didn't expect much more.

Where he expected hunks of wood, he found two vibrant Witchers, so different from Geralt in temperament, but with all the same skills and abilities. And, the same _gifts_. For not only was Eskel a sparkling conversationalist who could discuss classical poetry with Jaskier for hours—not only was Lambert hilarious and cheeky and the best drinking buddy Jaskier ever had—but they were all gleaming mountains of muscle built like a whole row of brick shit houses. Who liked to wander around either shirtless, or with half their buttons undone. And all three were hung like fucking centaurs. How did Jaskier know this last little detail? Well, after he crawled into Eskel's lap one night, things sorted themselves out from there...

Despite visiting a different bed every night (or all of them lumped together in the same bed doing delicious things to one another) winter at Kaer Morhen wasn't all frolicking and fucking, Jaskier had his share of chores just like the rest of them. One of his regular chores was tending to the animals. It wasn't as backbreaking as the work Geralt, Eskel and Lambert completed, but it was work, and Jaskier completed his share without complaint.

After spreading the chicken feed, checking to make sure Roach and Scorpion's water buckets hadn't iced over, and freshening the straw, Jaskier took one last look around before walking out of the little stable at the corner of the courtyard. A tug at the hem of his cloak pulled him back and he followed it down. A wayward nail grabbed the hem and he frowned. A new rip in his only winter cloak was just the last fucking thing he needed. He bent down and gently pulled it from the nail...

And tripped over a stray stack of buckets the minute he stood up. It wasn't the first time either. The rusty things were barely useful, they'd been sitting at the door of the stable for weeks, untouched except for when Jaskier tripped over them. While he was aching to get back into the warm castle (and some warm Witcher arms, if he was being completely honest) Jaskier knew if he left the stack here, he'd never move it. He stacked up the buckets and carried them behind the stable, making a mental note to ask Geralt if they were fine to throw out.

Jaskier set the stack down and stood up, slamming to a stop half way down. There was a knot hole, at the back of the stable that he hadn't noticed before. A large knot hole... about waist height.

Intrigued, Jaskier straightened up and stepped closer to the wall. Swallowing heavily, he pushed his hips forward, hoping against hope he wasn't imagining things... The edges of the hole brushed his cock through his breeches and Jaskier whooped. He was off like a shot, back into the keep, to locate the first Witcher he could get his hands on.

The thing about having all winter to fuck was that, one had to make it interesting to keep it fun. There were only so many times Jaskier could spread his legs for Geralt, or mount Lambert, or flip a coin with Eskel to see whose turn it was. They'd fucked in about every room in the castle by now in the name of keeping it fresh and while Jaskier was satisfied, he couldn't help but think there was more fun to be had in an ancient castle filled with secrets. He sent a brief thank you up to whatever horny young Witcher drilled the hole in the first place and ran up to the bedrooms.

He took the stairs two at a time and burst into Geralt's room, only to find Eskel there as well, lounging across the White Wolf's lap. They both had their shirts off, and under Eskel's ass, he saw Geralt's breeches unbuttoned. Working towards sex but not quite there yet, perfect.

Then, Jaskier uttered something he never thought he'd say to any of them: “Get dressed. There's something in the stables you have to see.”

Eskel got up without a word and shrugged into his shirt, but a muscle in Geralt's jaw jumped. “Jaskier, if you let Scorpion in Roach's stall...”

Eskel let out a bark of laughter and Jaskier glared at him. “No, I'm not stupid, you'd kill me. Come with me, I found something.”

Shirts and boots on, breeches buttoned, they all trooped down to the stables, popping into the dining hall for a moment to grab Lambert. The closer they got to the stables, the more excited Jaskier got until he was jumping for joy. “The fuck?” Lambert whispered under his breath. The other two just shrugged.

Jaskier led them around the back of the stables and pointed at the hole. “Did you know this was here?”

Realization dawned across Lambert's face first. He nudged Eskel, who did a double take before smirking. “Oh shit,” Geralt whispered a moment later. “I forgot this was here. Eskel, you remember—”

“Oh yes, I remember.”

Normally Jaskier hated being left out of stories, but right now he very much didn't care. “One of you run around the other side.” He turned over one of the no longer useless buckets and sat down, his mouth in exactly the right spot. It was uncanny.

Geralt hauled him up to his feet again. “No, not now, it's not fun if it's not a surprise.”

Jaskier pouted. “But I just found it. Don't you want to—”

Geralt distracted Jaskier by covering his lips with his own and snaking one hand down to squeeze his ass. A hard cock rutted against his thigh. “How about this,” Geralt mumbled between kisses. “You come back upstairs with us, and we'll tell you stories about that hole while we fuck yours. Fair enough?”

“Mmm, you drive a hard bargain. I accept. But tomorrow? You promise?”

“We promise,” Geralt said. The three wolves each had their own mind and their own desires, Geralt didn't like to speak for his brothers, but the sight of that long forgotten glory hole at the back of the stables put them in one mind: they were definitely going to fuck Jaskier every conceivable way through that hole.

They returned to the warmth of the keep, each of them with at least one hand on Jaskier. When they got to Geralt's room, Jaskier leaned back in their arms, letting them strip him and move him wherever they pleased. He ended up on the rug in front of the fire, straddling Geralt's lap with Eskel and Lambert standing over him, two lovely cocks hanging out for him to kiss and lick as he pleased. But Jaskier didn't use all his tricks, he wanted to save some for tomorrow.

The next day, after training and chores, when they all dispersed around the keep to do their own activities, Jaskier made his way down to the courtyard. He checked around to make sure Vesemir wasn't lurking (alright, it was his castle, but still) before popping behind the stable and sitting on top of an upturned bucket. He didn't have to wait long.

There was a rustling of fabric on the other side of the wall and a scarred finger tapped the edge of the hole, crooking, asking Jaskier to come forward. Jaskier opened his mouth and pressed his lips to the hole. The edges were smooth—sanded down by some pervy boy of old, or maybe worn down by use—no chance of cuts or splinters, just a good time. Jaskier felt a heavy pressure on his tongue and a spurt of salty precome.

They figured out the rules last night—it was a game, and all games had rules. Like with any sex game, there were no losers, just a lot of winners. “You put your cock in my mouth,” Jaskier whispered last night, squished between Eskel and Geralt, his fingers ruffling Lambert's hair. “And if I guess whose it is, I get the next turn.”

“What if you guess wrong?” Lambert asked.

Jaskier shrugged. “Then we keep going until I guess right. I've had all three of you in my mouth in one night, stamina is not a worry.”

Eskel thought to add another rule: “And you don't get to come until you guess correctly.” Oh, the scarred Witcher had a cruel streak in him, too bad his ideas were always genius. Jaskier easily agreed.

Though it was cold in the courtyard, the walls broke the wind and Jaskier had a good cloak, not to mention the heat from the animals in the stable raised the temperature around him a little bit (also not mentioning the heat of the Witcher on the other side of the wall). He gathered the cloak tight around him, sliding the heel of one hand over the bulge in his breeches as he got to work.

After enjoying the first licks, Jaskier got into the game. He tried to smell who it might be, but they were all so masculine and musky, it was hard to differentiate them unless they were fresh out of the bath. The heavy grunt from the other side of the wall might belong to any of them. Hmm, this might be harder than Jaskier thought... He flicked his tongue across the slit—like Eskel enjoyed—and got a moan. Then, he wrapped his tongue fully around the head, sucking it into his cheek, which made Geralt groan. The person on the other side groaned as well. With one last slurp he pulled off and blew gently across the head—which Lambert couldn't get enough of. The body on the other side shivered a little, but no noise or identifying curse was forthcoming.

But all was not lost, Jaskier still had time to enjoy his mouthful, maybe if he threw himself into it, he'd get a gasped “Jaskier!” right at the end.

Though the wall made it so Jaskier couldn't take as much as he liked, the heavy cock against his tongue made him moan, all floaty and pleased, happy to be servicing his wolves. A soft gasp behind the wall sent a little thrill down his spine. Jaskier knew there were only three of them, he knew his choices were limited... but the anonymity of the hole bored into the back of the stables made him believe it could be _anyone_ plundering his mouth right now. Jaskier didn't want just anyone, but that wasn't the point here, the point was the excitement, and they were right on target there.

One hand kneading his own cock through his his breeches, Jaskier placed the other hand against the wall. He had no fucking clue who was on the other side and at the moment, he did not care. He licked and slurped, let the spit gather in his mouth until it was extra sloppy, some staining the wood. The Witcher on the other side groaned... Eskel, maybe? Tasting the first vinegary splash on his tongue, he sucked harder, ready to swallow down all he was given.

The Witcher didn't make a sound as he came. Buttons scraped against the wood as hips thrust, but Jaskier didn't get a single last minute hint in the form of a muttered curse or a deep sigh. Damn their fucking control, why did they decide to use it now?

Sensitive and overstimulated, the cock pulled out of Jaskier's mouth, leaving him empty and so very hard. “Well?” Geralt's voice purred. “Who do you think?”

It took a moment for Jaskier to scrape his brain up off the ground. “Uh, Eskel?”

A deep chuckle rolled through the air, a little breathless. “Lambert, little lark.”

Jaskier slumped against the wall, pressing his head into the wood. His cock throbbed, pinched between his thighs, it was almost unbearable. Another finger tapped the opening and Jaskier took one last moment to feel sorry for himself before opening his mouth. It really wasn't all that bad, they'd make him come in the end, he just had to wait.

The stupid thing was, they were all very similar once you got below the belt. Jaskier never thought about it, but their differences—Geralt's striking white hair, Lambert's wry grin, Eskel's dashing scars—were above the collar. Ask Jaskier to tell them apart by sight and he would ace that test. Down below... their muscles were built by the same training regime, mutated by the same magic. Their scars were so numerous as to render them totally similar (claw marks here, a bite there, maybe a puckered arrow wound) and their cocks, well, those were all equally long and thick. Jaskier's confidence that he knew every inch of his wolves took a rather sudden hit.

But that didn't stop him from putting in a marvelous performance. Once again, he felt the cock on the other side twitch, the first sour spurts bathing his tongue. Jaskier moaned around the length in his mouth and kept sucking, pulling everything he could and drinking it down. With a shuddering little moan, the cock pulled away. “Who do you think?” Lambert asked.

Lambert already had his turn, and since he was the one who spoke and not Geralt, Jaskier was fairly confidant when the said, “Geralt.”

“No,” a shuddery voice said. “Eskel.”

“Fuck.” Jaskier hit his head against the wall. His entire body shook with need, cock harder than he ever remembered. It was like orgasm denial without the touching, which was the only good part of that particular pastime (Jaskier tried once at the request of the Countess de Stael, never, ever again).

Another finger tapped the hole, drawing his eyes back down. There was only one Witcher left, he had to get it right this time, there was no contest. Jaskier let his mouth drop open, lips red and swollen, extra sensitive when he sucked and licked. The hot cock in his mouth felt bigger than the others, extra hard after watching his brothers get to sample Jaskier's somewhat anonymous mouth. Jaskier put his all in this one, spit dripping over his lips so the slide was more than wet, tongue tracing the heavy vein before swirling around the head. He did his very best.

The Witcher came with a choked off groan and as soon as Jaskier swallowed down all he could, he pulled off with an indecent plop. “Geralt,” he whispered.

That same dark chuckle met his ears and his stomach dropped. “Lambert.”

“What? That's not possible!”

“Didn't say we each had to have a turn,” Eskel purred.

Leaving alone the fact that Geralt got completely left out of the game just so they could get one over on Jaskier, the bard simply could not take one more. He'd suck cock all day, but he needed a little reciprocation. “Ugh, you're all terrible,” he whined.

Damn the game, he was about to burst. Jaskier opened his cloak, fingers going for his breeches, when a strong hand around his wrist stopped him. He turned to see Geralt looming over him, devious wolf smile on his lips. He pulled Jaskier to his feet, and pressed a burning kiss to his red lips. Jaskier kissed back hungrily, pleasure sparking through him. So Geralt got him behind the glory hole? That was fine, a nice change up to the game they planned.

Jaskier tried to open Geralt's breeches only for him to grab his wrist again. Geralt whirled him around, pushing him into the wall and throwing his cloak over one shoulder. Jaskier yelped, but then he felt large hands pulling at his breeches. He shivered when the cold air hit them; Geralt took a moment to rearrange his own winter cloak around them, containing their body heat in a wool cocoon.

“Lambert,” he whispered as he bit down Jaskier's neck. “Can you see his cock?”

“A little to the left,” came the answer.

Geralt shifted them again, one hand at the base of Jaskier's cock. The chilly wood brushed him and Jaskier felt lips on the other side just as an oiled finger teased at his hole. “Oh shit.”

“Mmm, now you get the idea.”

Lambert—he assumed—mouthed and licked at the head of his cock while Geralt's slick fingers twisted inside him, pads pressing down in all the right places. “Hands on the wall,” Geralt whispered. No sooner had Jaskier done as asked when the head of Geralt's cock started opening him up.

“F-fuck...” He leaned his head against the wall, trying to pull cold air into his lungs to steady himself. They'd done this before of course, someone in his ass, another on his cock. Jaskier had given and received in almost every combination when it came to his Witchers, but once again, this unassuming hole that was both cock sized and cock height did so much to enhance the pleasure. He was pretty sure it was Lambert's mouth around him, but maybe Eskel wanted a turn. All Jaskier knew was he definitely had Geralt's cock in his ass and he was seconds away from coming.

Geralt slotted his chin on top of Jaskier's shoulder, thrusting lazily. “Do not mistake me, I want my turn with your mouth. I can never resist your tight ass when given the chance.”

There was an unseemly slurp from the other side of the wall and Jaskier came, spilling down Lambert's (or maybe Eskel's) throat. Even though he was far too sensitive after his orgasm, the mouth stayed in place, keeping his cock protected from the cold around them while Geralt finished up. With a grunt and one more strong thrust, he filled Jaskier.

Geralt usually liked to stay close after sex, kissing and moving together before having a short nap or a long bath, so Jaskier was very surprised indeed when Geralt pulled out and yanked his breeches up almost in the same motion. Those lips were against his ear again, hot breath making him shiver. “If you manage to keep my seed inside you until we get upstairs, I'll lick it out for you.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier whispered. That seemed to be the sum total of his vocabulary at the moment.

But Geralt wasn't a complete monster. He helped Jaskier right his clothing and they walked out from behind the stable to find Eskel and Lambert smirking like the cats who got the cream. “I'm freezing, round two inside?” Lambert asked.

They did indeed conduct round two in the bedroom, though for Jaskier it was more like round five. They made several trips to that old glory hole that winter, Jaskier thinking of more and more elaborate games for them to play.

The End


End file.
